I am presently hugely engaged in connecting, usually on a daily basis, with my paralyzed, nerv-damaged 59-year-old son Colin Cudmore, who, for nearly two years, has been living in a nursing home, Majestic Care, a place which reminds us, when humor overwhelms, of the movie, One Fell Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. He’s due to get into his own apartment, with a home health aide, August 7, so three months from tomorrow! I post near-daily on his progress:
https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/colincudmorehealing
Meanwhile, whenever I can bring him a good story over the phone that makes us both laugh, I do. He loves stories, especially about his relatives.
Okay, so here goes, the story I told him this morning.
Note: For privacy purposes, my siblings (I am the first of seven, with six still alive), shall remain anonymous, except for first letter of first name.
I was on the phone with my youngest sib K last night for about an hour, and we started talking about how patterns repeat across generations. Sounds like serious business, and it is; however, we ended up uproariously laughing.
She reminded me of a story from when our parents, Ben and Renee in their mid-90s, were in a wonderful care facility, about a half mile down the street from where she lived. Our sister P had come up from the south, wanting to help the parents.
Here’s the gist of what K conveyed to me:
P stayed with us for six months! Walking down there early in the morning, and walking back late in the evening. All day long, doing absolutely everything for them, cooking, cleaning, helping them get in and out of chairs, bed, clothes, etc. etc. Finally, at their request, P left and returned to the south.
The next day K and her husband were driving by: Geez, shall we go see them? I don’t want to do what P was doing for them, but I don’t want to ignore them either. As they drive by, they see both parents’ heads hanging out the window (their apartment is in a multi-story building). WHAT? Better go check it out.
While her husband was parking the car, K ran in and tried to open their door. It was locked. WHAT? (Already thinking: You’re not supposed to lock your door in this kind of facility. Don’t want them to get kicked out!).
She knocked loudly, calling out. “Hey, It’s K.” Dad yelled out: “Yeah? WHAT DO YOU WANT?”
“I want to get in so I can check on you.”
Still in that mean voice, she could hear him say, “Renee, go get the door.” K could hear her shuffling up to the door. When she opened it, K could see that her mom’s robe was falling off, and so was her diaper. She looked loopy . . .
K looked over to the dining room table. There was Ben, sitting there with an open bottle of whiskey in front of him. He looked loopy too. Remarked: WE’RE BOTH TRASHED, AND THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT!!!
(Keep in mind that all his life Dad was a strict, German, highly responsible MD. Not a drinker!)
Ok. Now segue to the latest generational repeat of the above.
The same sibling who was devoted to helping the parents as they neared their dying days is now dying. Or at least we think she is; P is in hospice care, at home, and her many children and their families have already come for a final visit and returned home again. She’s there with just her husband, also nearing death’s door. (P had taken devoted care of him for about six months as he underwent one futile operation after another, trying get rid of cancer which still remains. My sense is that whatever little life force P had left was then drained while caring for him.)
Okay, so just as P had been caring for her parents, now it’s their daughter, M, who has been caring for her parents, arriving while P she was in the hospital, and then going home with her when she was released to hospice, expected to die “within days or weeks.”
Weeks went by. M is a multidimensional healer by temperament, and was taking very good care of her mom, at every level. (He didn’t want care; spent all his time outside in his shack with short wave radio.) Not just physical care, but nutrition as well. (Both P and her husband had always eaten the standard American diet, high on carbs, sugar, processed food . . .)
Finally, P and her husband said they would like some time alone, so if M would you please just return home.
So to test out this idea, M went and stayed with P’s husband’s family, about 2 miles away, for two days, and then returned to see what had transpired.
And guess what had transpired?
P and her husband went to the store and loaded up on cookies, candy, etc. etc. All the stuff M didn’t want them to have.
M gave up and went back home.
Here we go again! Same story; there’s only so much we can do for our loved ones as they near the end; and in fact, it may be that they only want to be left alone! To do it their way!
Yep! Son Colin and I laughed like crazy!
(Laughter IS the best medicine.)
